


Ode to the Lonely

by oloros



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Background Established Relationship, Connor's a dubious matchmaker, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Gift Work, Implied Unrequited Love, Jericho Tower, M/M, Simon's a bit of a golden retriever, Sixty's a bit of an ass, Some Romance, we all know what I mean by that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oloros/pseuds/oloros
Summary: Trapped in Jericho Tower with little hopes of progress, Sixty's getting listless.Simon takes a shot at cracking open his shell.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Simon, Implied Markus/Simon - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: New ERA Discord: Festival of Prompts





	Ode to the Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stray_dog_sick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/gifts).



He can hear them speaking about him.

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea? He tried to _kill_ one of you.”

“Everyone deserves a chance, North.”

“Technically, _I_ was trying to kill both of you at one point.”

Sixty closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to sleep, but it’s the better option for now.

**\--*--**

A tender smiles graces Connor’s lips as two arms hook around his neck, running slim fingers along his chest. The brown skin draws back into a shiny, clean white and he returns the gesture with his own skin.

Markus lowers his head past Connor’s cheek and says, “Are you sure this is the best thing to do?”

Connor nods. “He’s just like the rest of us.”

It’s one of the rare days where he’s allowed to spend all his time at Jericho tower. No ferrying around Hank, no jabbing Gavin and no chasing criminals until their legs gave out. Markus’ office is remarkably clean. The desks are clear aside from blueprints and legal files, and the walls are filled with straight frames of his artwork. His paintings are vibrant and abstract, the kind that could be seen by a thousand people and still be viewed different by each.

Jericho’s quieter on the weekends. It’s Saturday and they’ve only had twelve clients check in, some from abusive homes and others unsure of where to dip their toes in the world. It’s becoming more frequent that androids simply refuse to work normal jobs. It’s all well for humans; they needed the openings. But it means they’re running out of space, and _that’s_ where Markus’ hesitations come from.

Sixty popped up a month ago. CyberLife had tossed him to the wolves and he’d crawled back, torn suit and narrowed eyes. He wasn’t aggressive but he was _spiteful_ , and he spat venom at Connor like he were a little mouse in the face of a hungry viper. Despite this, it was hard not to pity him. It’s still hard not to, even if he refuses to see him. Refuses to let him interact.

They weren’t sure what to do with him at first. He was held in a stagnant trial for the first three weeks, until a thought popped into Connor’s mind while he was nuzzled against Markus one night. That’s when they’d put him into a rehabilitation program, but a _unique_ one, just for him. He’s stationed with the rest of the androids in the recreational rooms, but he’s not allowed to leave. Not without discharge papers and someone escorting him.

Markus was all for it until Jericho hit a peak in activity and it become strikingly clear how even one reserved spot would become an issue. They didn’t know how long Sixty would need to stay, and he couldn’t hold the spot forever without some sacrifices.

Markus prods at his mind through their interface. He feels Connor’s worries, fears and sympathies. There’s something reassuring about his presence, like a gentle caress of the cheek or a warm hug on a rainy day.

“I trust you,” Markus says. “He can stay here as long as he needs. But if something comes up...”

Connor reaches to place the tips of his fingers on Markus’ cheekbone. It stands out on his face, strong and commanding. “I’ll handle it,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m curious, though,” Markus says as he pulls away. He slides another chair over from the corner of the room and sidles up next to Connor. “What’s different about him?”

There’s an unspoken detail. _Why didn’t you do the same for Nines?_

Connor’s silent as he mulls it over. “Nines has Gavin,” he says.

Markus laughs softly. “You’re saying that’s a good thing?”

“It is,” Connor says. “They work well together, even if they argue a lot. Gavin gives him a purpose.” He looks past Markus’ shoulder to one of his painting. Shades of blue streak in random directions, disorganised. Chaotic. “Sixty has no one. No one’s… clicked with him.”

Markus arches a brow. “So you think keeping him here in Jericho will fix that?”

“Yes,” Connor smiles. “Call it a hunch.”

**\--*--**

This place is tiring.

Sixty’s got the routine mapped out in his head like an engraving. It was always the same people doing the same things. Jenny from the greenhouse would paint the plants she’d grown, Ralph from the streets would chirp to birds and play with rats. And somehow they’re all so perfectly _content_ with the repetition. How is one supposed to feel better in such dreary circumstances?

Sixty’s routine is to sit at the tables in the central room. It’s meant for conversing, but he’s got no one to talk to. He sits by himself and watches the other androids like he’s translucent to them all. There’s been complaints lately about it being ‘creepy’, but really, what else is he supposed to do? If he tries to talk to anyone they back off, like a small little dog with its tail stuck between its legs. They _fear_ the hunter of the deviant hunter.

He’s sat at the same table, staring in the same direction, tapping his fingers to the same beat when a slim figure steps into his line of sight.

He’s blonde. Pretty boy, with blue eyes and a clear face. His name’s Simon, the overseer of the recreational facilities. Markus talks about him as a fair and friendly persona. Like he’s built for the job. Maybe he is; he doesn’t talk about his function before the revolution.

He looks up at him. “Do you need something?”

Simon places his hands on his hips. “How’re you doing?”

“You came for small talk?” Sixty says. “Can’t you go bother someone else?”

Simon’s smile is firm but gentle. “Sure, I could. But I’ve spoken to them hundreds of times. You, on the other hand...”

“There’s a reason for that,” Sixty says. “I avoid you.”

“The blunt type, huh?” Simon takes a seat next to him. Sixty doesn’t remember giving him permission to do that, but he’s not allowed to push and shove anymore.

The silence that follows is heavy and he can’t stand feeling Simon’s eyes on him. He turns his head to face him and raises his eyebrows.

“Why’d you choose the name Sixty?” Simon asks. His attention is swarming Sixty.

Sixty looks away again. “I didn’t _choose_ it. It’s just my name.”

Simon’s stare presses on. “Would you like a new one?”

Sixty frowns at him. “Are we playing twenty questions now? Why are you talking to me?”

“You just seem bored is all.” Simon raises his hands to ward off the venom. “Cabin fever?”

Huh. That’s a new one. “...Cabin fever?” Sixty tilts his head.

Simon looks at him incredulously. Like he’s an idiot. “You know! Being cooped up here. When’s the last time you left?”

“I haven’t been permitted to yet. It’s not like anyone’s jumping at the opportunity.”

“Right...” Finally, Simon’s eyes part from him and drift across the room. The euphoria is heightened when he rises from his seat only to come to a fiery plummet when a strong hand is stretched out to him.

He shoves it aside. “I’m not shaking your hand.”

Simon nods. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you around, Sixty.”

Sixty hopes not.

**\--*--**

There’s an inkling of something whenever he sees Connor.

Connor’s visits are scarce and repetitive. He’ll always look at him with those sad, sad eyes. Like he’s seen a stray dog cast to the rain, looking on him with big brown eyes. Sixty tries his best to bare his teeth.

It’s all unspeakably unfair. Connor’s allowed to walk a free man. The apple of CyberLife’s eye, the hideous RK900, is allowed to mingle with the Detroit Police. But Sixty? He’s holed up in a tower. Too unpredictable to leave alone.

With company, he may be free. He could go see Detroit, see the rest of the tower – though he’s not sure he wants to.

So why doesn’t he offer?

On Connor’s last visit of the week, there’s something different about him. Instead of pity, he receives a hopeful smile.

**\--*--**

Simon’s back when the new week arises.  
“Have you ever been to a zoo?”

Sixty looks on him with contempt. “Yes. CyberLife made sure to book me a trip after I was activated.”

Simon rubs the back of his neck and laughs. “That was a silly question, wasn’t it?”

Sixty hums his agreement. Simon’s full of these _silly questions_ , he’s learnt.

“Well… do you want to?”

The zoos are a new feature to Detroit. New in a relative sense, of course – they’ve been around for a while, developing overtime to include more animals. All androids, all programmed with thebehaviours of their real counterparts. Exciting to a small child, maybe, or the immature blonde sitting next to him. Not so fascinating to him.

But it’s an opportunity for escape, and Sixty’s never been offered that.

“Okay,” he says, minding his tone so that it doesn’t sound too polite. “I’ll bite.”

Checking out of Jericho is swifter than he originally thought. Rather than being treated like a flesh-eating parasite released into an ecosystem, he’s ignored in favour of Simon. Like he’s a pet on a leash, nothing more. The zoo’s entrance is met with the same flow. It turns out Simon, with all his confidence, pre-booked the tickets. The idea makes Sixty feel something he can’t quite put his finger on.

The first exhibit they visit is the polar bears, the apple of CyberLife’s eye. They were in development long before the company’s fall. Their quality’s no less than the newer animals small companies have concocted, with silky white fur and rough black skin beneath. Their exhibit is a vanity more than anything, as well as their feeding times. While they can intake food, as the rather chunky bear indicates, there’s no need for them to. It’s a luxury to please the human children. Their scans turn up with unidentified models – they were never added to Sixty’s logs.

“You recognise them?” Simon asks. Sixty’s concentration must’ve been showing.

“Only as frames,” he responds. “They’re not so pretty that way.”

The next is a woodland exhibit. They’ve thrown an entire ecosystem onto one display. It’s full of red foxes with cunning eyes and bushy tails, skittish squirrels darting across tree branches and gentle jays tidying their nests. It’s not awfully interesting, but Simon seems attracted to the foxes. He points at one in particular; it has a scar along its shoulder, showing off its white skin underneath.

The animals that garner the most adoration from Simon are the sunbears. It’s confounding. They’re not doing _anything_. Sixty’s never been so focused in his life looking for a _shred_ of movement from them. They’re all huddled on the floor basking in artificial sun, peach chests on show for the crowd. Between the lumbering polar bears and the elegance of the foxes, the ones that incite a childlike love are the ones that may as well stay extinct.

“Do you have some innate desire to lay around like they do? Is this a signal?”

Simon laughs at him. “They’re just cute.”

The reason _can’t_ be that simple. But try as he might, Sixty can’t get a further elaboration.

It continues the same for the next hour. Each exhibit manages to be both completely different and irritatingly the same. That is, until he catches notice of white scales.

‘ _T_ _he Albino Burmese Python’,_ its plaque read.

Sixty leans in so close the tip of his nose threatens to poke the glass.

Simon pulls him back before one of the staff can. “Someone likes the snake, hey?”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Sixty says. There’s not much competition. Markus would’ve come first, but the sight becomes boring when he’s forced to see it looking down at him from an elevator.

“I guess you’re a bit of a snake,” Simon says.

Sixty whips around to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Wait, no, I –“ Simon catches himself and raises two flat palms to sedate him. “Not like that! Sorry. I meant… misunderstood. People tend to say they’re scary or slimy. I think they’re beautiful, too.”

Satiated, Sixty faces the python once more. “I’d like to take it home.”

“What?” Simon frowns. “No. You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…” Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. “It belongs to the _zoo_. You can’t just take it.”

“Fine. I hope it eats them.” Sixty crosses his arms and saunters to the next exhibit.

**\--*--**

“You talked to Simon.”

Markus is standing at the doorway of the office, hands tucked into the pockets on his pants.

Connor leans back in his chair and grins. “I did.”

“So, this is the _hunch_ you were talking about.” Markus shakes his head with a pleasant smile. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

**\--*--**

Sixty finds himself becoming more curious about Simon as the day progresses. Despite his snark, Simon’s mood doesn’t drop below a calm enthusiasm. Their trip comes to a close just outside the entrance of the zoo, having seen all the cybernetic animals they had to offer.

“May I ask you something?”

Simon’s eyes light up. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Why don’t you work with Markus anymore?”

Because, as Sixty’s come to realise, he has memories of the first time he was put into Jericho. And he distinctly remembers Simon standing alongside him, following him to the offices and taking up the role of adviser. Until Connor’s visits became longer and he became the one following Markus up the stairs.

“We...” Simon’s lips press a firm line. “We wanted different things. That’s all.”

Sixty snorts. “And you opted to be a babysitter instead?”

“A babysitter?” Simon tilts his head before his mouth parts with realisation. “Oh! No, Connor suggested that for me. It’s not so bad. I got to meet you, didn’t I?”

There’s an air of earnest that strikes a chord in Sixty’s chassis. He’s never sure how to respond to something like that, so he dips his head and looks into the distance.

“I think there’s more to you than meets the eye,” Simon continues. Sixty’s powerless to stop him. “So I wanted to propose something.”

Sixty looks at him and quirks his brow.

“I’ll help you.” Simon places a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and soft. “I’ve watched you for a while. Jericho’s not the place for you, and I know I can convince Markus to allow you to leave.”

Sixty brushes the hand off and frowns at him, waiting for the punch.

“But they can’t go off just my word.” Simon doesn’t tuck his hand by his side, instead holding it out to him. “I want to keep doing this with you. I’ll keep a log, and in a month’s time, it should be enough to get you out. How does that sound?”

“This was your plan?” Sixty says. “To trap me out here so you can force me to be your pet?”

Simon’s not rattled. He keeps on smiling. “Of course not. I’m forcing you to be my friend.”

Sixty thinks back over the week. Markus looks on him with caution. Connor looks on him with sympathy. Others look on him with disgust, or fear. Like he’s been fitted with a muzzle and they just _wish_ he could prove to them he’s not out to bite. Simon’s never shown any of the feelings, only an irritating persistence. An overwhelming aura of unjustified friendliness that, while uneasy, is hard for Sixty to shrug off his shoulders knowing deep down it’s the only time he’s ever been regarded as more than an unknown.

Sixty takes his hand and holds it firmly.

“Okay. Simon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
